Snippets of Dawn
by AchikaMiyu
Summary: Short drabbles about the members of Akatsuki. Rated for language.
1. Rain

**A/N: Just a bunch of drabbles focusing on Akatsuki. I wrote most of these for a drabble contest at H&E adding a few minor edits. What better way to get myself back into the writing mood to do some writing exercises.**

**Theme:** Rain  
**Characters:** Konan/Pein

* * *

He was always around her, but never there. He surrounded her with his presence, yet he was always miles away. When did things become so constrained between them? Maybe it had always been like that. Holding her hand out into the cool rain, she felt the sensual kiss of the rain: _his _rain. It glided down her fingers like joyful tears, it splattered against her palm playfully. She liked to think that she was the only one privy to these sensations. But he was a God and God loves all.

There was once a time when she was the only one he loved: when she was the only one that they loved. Yahiko was the more demonstrative one while Nagato favored being the silent protector. They meant the world to her. In a way, she could consider herself lucky that she would always see Yahiko's face everyday and when see looked into his eyes, Nagato would be the one staring back at her. She should feel lucky.

She pulled her hand out of the rain and stared at her damp skin. It glistened, mocking the fact that she wasn't the only one blessed by his gift. Because even though she could always see her two precious people everyday, they spared her the same courtesy as all of Amegakure no sato. She clenched her fist in frustration, digging her nails into her palm.

"Konan."

She turned to face the man who embodied everything she lived for, "Yes, Pein-sama."

"You shouldn't stay so close to the rain, it will ruin your jutsu."

"I know. I only wanted to feel it, to remember."

The Akatsuki leader nodded briefly, "we leave tomorrow to go after the Kyuubi. I trust that you will be ready and rested?"

"Of course," she said bowing, letting a few strands of blue hair fall in her face; a gesture that once elicited the rarest and rawest emotions from that man.

He said nothing and did nothing as he left her to her thoughts. That was how things were between them now. She was paper and he was rain. He would be her downfall, her ruin. He would only drench her with his ambitions until she would become a fragile mess, easily torn and washed away. Pulling her wet hand to her face, she let the moisture wet her dry lips. It was the closest she would get to him: to Yahiko, to Nagato, to Pein . . . it didn't matter who he was anymore because to her, he would always be hers. Hers to love, hers to protect and hers to die for, because she loved the rain and she wanted nothing more than to drown in it.

End.


	2. Fireworks

**Theme**: Fireworks  
**Characters**: Deidara and Sasori

"I don't care for this piece."

"Why not? I think the bold statement the artist made is quite intriguing. That and the woodprint is still intact after all these years."

"It would look better blown up into bits and pieces, yeah," Deidara said as he reached into his pouch of clay.

"We're not supposed to draw attention to ourselves," Sasori stated, still admiring the woodprint.

Deidara snorted crossing his arms in front of him. "Admit it, you don't appreciate my expressive art form."

"Though that may be true, I do have a valid reason this time." Sasori tilted his head to the entrance of the tent.

Deidara turned to see several blushing women at the entrance to the festival's art gallery staring at the two men. Seeing the throngs of women making eyes at Sasori as well as himself was not a good thing. The last thing they needed was to be followed around by a bunch of fangirls.

"Why are we here in this village again?"

"We're meeting with an informant about information on our next target. They're supposed to meet us after the fireworks are over."

The mention of fireworks brought a dangerous glint in Deidara's eye. "I guess going to this festival will be worth while after all. I wonder if they'll let me help put on a few fireworks of my own, yeah."

Sasori sighed, "I'm still not certain why they insisted on making you my partner. Come, we need to be at the meeting place before the fireworks start."

The blond frowned watching his partner walk out of the tent while the multitude of women gazed longingly after him. Deidara casually walked towards the exit with a smirk on his face. A few of the women smiled back at him unaware of how dangerous this man was. He waved at the group letting the tongue on his hand creep out and lick the air in a grotesque manner. The women blanched and then scampered away, frightened by the unusual display.

Deidara caught up with Sasori as the fireworks were starting. The dangerous criminal paused in awe of the spectacular colors dancing across the night sky. Bright hues of color painted the village in a cacophony of beauty. Finally, at least something got to be blown up.

Sasori was also in awe of the explosive performance. The intrigue in the woodprints was astounding, but there was something about the way the fireworks spread its splendor beyond the nighttime sky. People around them were smiling and basking in the brilliant display. It was as if everyone could truly appreciate this sort of art form. The puppet-master hated to admit it, but he thought he could see a bit of why Deidara was so enthralled with his explosive art. It was beauty in a fleeting moment, it was majesty magnified to a grand scale.

The next thing he knew, a clay bird floated up into the sky and with a loud "Katsu!" exploded into a large spray of colors spelling out the words, 'Deidara was here.'

Whatever respect Sasori had for Deidara's art vanished after seeing his artistic interpretation of fireworks. However, a part of him still remembered the silent appreciation of what he saw that night. He would never tell his partner and Deidara would never know. But that night under the fireworks, the two artists finally came to a mutual agreement about art.

End.


	3. Flowers

**Theme**: Flowers  
**Characters**: Itachi, Kisame and Mikoto

It was a sight to see: two powerful criminals walking through the woods with one holding a bouquet of flowers. Oddly enough the blood-red hue of the carnations matched the color of the clouds decorating their black cloaks. The two men stopped at an abandoned temple where the shorter man laid the bouquet on the ground and prayed.

After the silent prayers were over, the larger of the two turned to his partner and asked, "Why carnations, why the same thing every year?"

Itachi didn't even turn to face his partner as he spoke, "Today is my mother's birthday and she liked carnations. They were her favorite."

"You're a very complicated man Itachi," Kisame snorted. "You are the very son who murdered his mother, yet you still honor her. Do you regret killing her?"

"No, I don't regret it. In fact, I never loved my mother. I hated her."

"Then why give her flowers on her birthday?"

Itachi turned to face Kisame, his sharingan eyes revealing no emotions. "Because she gave birth to me, because she gave birth to my brother and because she loved my younger brother so much that when I killed her, he turned all that love into hate. That is the reason why I still honor her."

Kisame laughed at Itachi's cryptic answer. "You certainly are a better man than I am."

"I am merely a man who is giving my mother the only honor she deserves."

"Indeed. Just make sure that you don't put any flowers on my grave if I happen to die before you do."

"And what would you prefer instead?"

"A bottle of sake!" Kisame said with a toothy grin.

Itachi smirked as he walked ahead gaining as much ground between himself and the temple where he put the flowers. "Let's go, we've wasted enough time here."

The blood-red carnations rested peacefully in front of the shrine, brightening the landscape. One would think that the flowers were a symbol of gratitude hoping to bring happiness to souls of the departed. But there was no peace in the heavens where a trouble spirit wept at the utter cruelty of her son's love. The lone woman hated this day where every year he would remind her of her faults and shortcomings with his twisted sense of honor. And every year he gave her an offering of her favorite flowers mixed with the bitter taste of hatred and spite, tearing her soul asunder.

End.

* * *

A/N: Next up is Kakuzu and Hidan.


	4. Touch

**Theme**: Touch  
**Characters**: Kakuzu and Hidan  
**Warnings**: Crude and vulgar language, lots of cursing

* * *

"Stop me if you've heard this one. So a sadist and a masochist are on a date together and the masochist says to the sadist, 'Beat me! Beat me!' Then the sadist turns to the masochist and says with a smile, 'No.'" Hidan said laughing.

"Shut-up Hidan."

"Ah, come on Kakuzu! Just because you have a stick up your ass, doesn't mean that I can't at least amuse myself."

"Personally, I don't want to hear about how you amuse yourself. Now keep quiet, you're pissing me off."

"Pussy."

Kakuzu glared at Hidan silently seething.

"Uncle-fucker."

"Hidan, shut it!"

Hidan smirked and put his index fingers and thumbs together moving them as he spoke in a high pitched voice, "I'm Kakuzu's vagina. I don't have the balls to tell Leader that I don't want to suck his fat cock."

"That's it!" Kakuzu screamed as he punched Hidan in the face.

The fallen Akatsuki member lay on the ground several yards away from his partner with a smile on his face and blood leaking out of his nose and mouth. "Oh yeah, that's the stuff."

Kakuzu walked up to his partner and kicked him in the stomach for good measure. He didn't even say a word to him as he proceeded down the path towards the next village.

"Hey, you didn't do enough damage to kill me this time," Hidan whined as he got up to follow his partner.

"You can't die you sick fuck!"

"Yeah, but you can still touch me," Hidan paused giving Kakuzu a feral look, "down there."

Hidan finally got his wish as he was beaten by Kakuzu into a bloody pulp. Death for him was slow and painful, just the way he liked it. Of course, the dead part never lasted long and the foul-mouthed member was back on his feet walking alongside his partner after his body regenerated itself.

"Hey Kakuzu?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember the time when we first met how you told me to be quiet, behave and to never touch you?"

"Yeah, I do. And when I told you that, you starting spouting off about how great Jashim is, you attracted a few enemy ninja and you wouldn't stop poking me in the ribs. That was probably two hours into us meeting. I drove a kunai through your heart at least fifteen times that day only to find out you couldn't die. Good times, good times," the masked man chuckled.

"Hey, not as bad as that one time you barbequed me along with some other enemy ninjas who were in the area."

Kakuzu shrugged, "It was the easiest way to take them all out at once and besides, it's not like you cared."

Hidan and Kakuzu continued their journey laughing about anecdotes of past missions. They were a strange pair. Bickering and fighting one minute and then laughing with each other the next. They interacted like the best of friends who were the worst of enemies. And such was the tenuous relationship between the two Akatsuki members who catered to their own whims, which oddly enough worked together.


	5. Fight

**Theme**: Fight  
**Character**: Zetsu  
**Warnings**: _**Not recommended for reading during breakfast, lunch or dinner**_

He had seen them all: long ones, short ones, bloody ones. His favorite had to be the short and bloody ones. Those were the type of fights that always made him hungry. Usually he waited until the winner would leave the area so he could put the loser's body to good use. However, it was known that on occasion he'd join the fight and consume both combatants simply because they both looked delicious.

Though the fighting didn't end there. Zetsu would always argue with himself on whether he should start with the feet or start with the head. The feet were like palate cleansers of bone and tendons, gradually letting him savor the juicy flesh of muscles and fat. Although the head was like a succulent hors d'oeuvre: sweet and savory in its complexity of eyes, tongue and brain. He once fought with himself so long about which end to start on, he eventually began in the middle eating his favorite part: the heart. The heart was the perfect food. It had texture, taste and most importantly, flavor. It was the pinnacle of cannibalistic delight.

The thought of food put him on edge as he remembered the last fight he witnessed. Neither side won and the enemies both retreated without suffering any casualties. Those were the fights he hated the most. They taunted him with the prospect of a good meal but failed to deliver. He also hated it when he was ordered to observe, but never interfere. The battle between the Kyuubi vessel and Itachi's younger brother had been one such fight. Luckily, it had been one of the most spectacular battles he had ever seen. Though savoring the loser would have been like icing on the cake. The dead bodies of jinchuriki's were always the most delectable.

The scent of blood perked his attention as the deadly spy blended into his surroundings to find the source of the sweet smell. Remaining hidden, he saw that several ninjas from two warring villages were in a heated battle. There were two four-man teams, one from each village. It looked like two men were down on one team and three from the other. Zetsu's eyes widened in predatory glee. He would be enjoying a feast tonight. He stopped paying attention to the fight and who was winning as he started to argue with himself on which body to eat first. Because it didn't matter who became the victor in this battle; fact was Zetsu always won.


	6. Games

**Theme:** Games  
**Characters:** Deidara and Tobi/Madara

"Senpai, who do you think would win in a fight, me or Itachi?"

"Idiot, a rookie like you could never beat Itachi."

"Well, how about you Senpai? Could you beat Itachi?"

"Tch," Deidara scowled. "I will beat that bastard one day."

"Ah, so you haven't beaten him yet! I knew Itachi was strong but I didn't realize he was that strong. Or maybe its because you're weaker," Tobi laughed.

"This is your first and last warning Tobi. One more stupid comment from you and I'm blowing that stupid orange mask off your face," Deidara shouted as he readied his explosive clay.

Tobi put his hands up defensively. "Just kidding, just kidding. I was only playing with you Senpai, you're so easy to tease."

"Well stop playing your silly games and start getting serious. We're part of Akatsuki, not some traveling circus."

"If you say so Senpai. But still . . . it would be kinda cool to see Itachi fight against you. Maybe I can see you beaten for once."

Tobi screamed rather comically as an explosion knocked him off his feet and sent him flying into the air. The rookie Akatsuki member was planted face first into the dirt groaning in pain.

Deidara glowered at his partner. "You're lucky this time Tobi. Now get up and follow me." The blond-haired man didn't even for his partner before taking off towards their destination.

A lone sharingan eye twisted and turned in excitement as it watched the volatile member of Akatsuki walk away. Madara Uchiha was pleased. He had found the perfect piece to use in his game of manipulation. Everything was going according to plan. He only needed to tip his players in the right direction until everything fell into place.

"Let the games begin."


	7. Gift

**Theme**: Gift

**Characters**: Sasori, Orochimaru and Kabuto

"You will not remember this meeting until the time is right. You will remain as loyal as possible to your target until we are ready to eliminate him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sasori-sama," the silver-haired child said, staring up in awe at the strange man with blood-red hair.

"Good. You are going to be sent as a gift to him. He always had an unnatural fascination with boys like you," Sasori said as he straightened the child's attire. "We will not meet again for a long time. Are you ready Kabuto?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now go."

Kabuto ran forward walking towards the crowded streets. His mind was racing with commands to find the pale-faced man with long hair, but he was slowly forgetting the reasons why. Darting back and forth between people, his dark eyes scanned the busy street with trepidation.

The waves of bodies moved around him, ignoring the lost child on the streets. Only a spiraling hiss of poisonous yellow spotted the defenseless boy. Those eyes never lost sight of the young child, who scurried between bodies like a little mouse.

Overwhelmed with the sheer number of people around him, Kabuto didn't even sense the man until he felt a cold hand slither onto his shoulder.

"Are you lost little boy?" a raspy voiced asked.

Kabuto was hypnotized by golden-yellow eyes: frozen in place by the man's gaze. His voice cowered away from the strength the man emanated and all Kabuto could do in response was nod his head once.

"You poor thing. What's your name?"

"Kabuto . . . sir."

The black-haired man gently ran his fingers through the boy's hair as he tested the name on his lips, "Kabuto. What a nice name. My name is Orochimaru. Do you happen to have any parents, Kabuto?"

Kabuto shook his head, enraptured by the suffocating gentleness of the man Sasori asked him to find.

"Is that so. Lost with no parents. How sad. But you don't have to be lost anymore. Come," Orochimaru said as he held his hand out.

The small gesture brought a smile to Kabuto's lips as he took the man's hand. Once he felt his smaller hand wrapped possessively around the man's pale hand he felt secure for the first time in his life. Kabuto realized that even if he hadn't been ordered to seek this man out, he would have gone with him willingly.

"You look like a little gift. All that's missing is a bow wrapped around your neck," Orochimaru quipped.

Kabuto only smiled back gingerly in response, soaking in the tall man's interest like a sponge as they walked away. The poor boy was nothing more than a thing to be tossed around. He was a gift from one man to the next, a gift that was supposed to bring about Orochimaru's downfall. Sasori would never live long enough to learn what happened to the young boy he gave away, but Orochimaru was never one to squander away something useful: and Kabuto's use was priceless.

* * *

A/N: That should make at least one drabble for all of the old Akatsuki members.


End file.
